


[kink# 21] impact play

by winchestersinthedrift



Series: 100 Kinks Challenge [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, F/M, Impact Play, Kinda, Painplay, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8486671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersinthedrift/pseuds/winchestersinthedrift





	

They get through the door and at first it’s pretty much exactly how Dean had imagined: Bela’s hot and quick like some kind of carnivore, honestly, all fingers and teeth and muscular thighs when she pulls up her dress and drags her panties down, lets them fall around her ankles. Dean puts his hand between her legs and she’s wet, _really_ wet, around his fingers. Her tits are pressed up against his chest and half the buttons on his shirt are undone and his tie’s wound up in one of her hands. They haven’t even made eye contact yet.

Bela pulls back, not far, half a step, but his hand slips from between her legs, smears down over the inside of her knee. He looks up and their eyes meet, and Bela thinks that the poems are all wrong—it’s not so much like _drowning_ , lust, not really, it’s more like coming untethered. Like your whole body just … dissolves, goes a little transparent. She rocks sideways on one foot and gives Dean a long probing look from under her lashes. It’s been awhile since she’s asked someone for this, this particular flavour, and she doesn’t think Dean is into that, probably, not precisely, but he’s got hard reflexes and he’s the kind of guy that feels the heft of words, so -

She takes a quick breath and says, clipped and almost expressionless,

‘Hit me.’

There’s a second where Dean hesitates, sucks in an off-balance breath.

‘No - o?’ he says, like he’s not sure how the word tastes. Bela hooks a foot around his shin and pulls his leg out from under him. He stumbles, recovers, slams her against a wall by the shoulders. It’s nice, but it’s not what she wants.

‘Hit me,’ she says again, grinning, pushing against his chest, making him use his muscles to hold her there. He gets a hand up, open, glances back to her eyes, checking. She glitters at him.

‘ _Yeah_ ,’ she says, and he slaps her across the face, not just the cheek but the bridge of her nose, and it leaves a sting on her lips. It’s bright and fun and sharp, and webs of fireworks shoot off inside her skull. She gets one hand wrapped up tight in the front of Dean’s shirt and they’re chin to chin.

‘ _Hurt_ me you fucker,’ she says, through her teeth, and he winds up, still hesitant, his eyes a little glazed over. Bela leans into the punch, not away. It hits in the hollow of her shoulder and she makes a noise, hurt and dark and erotic, and Dean doesn’t know this, what they’re doing, he doesn’t know it at all, but he knows _that—that_ noise he recognises—and he looks up quick and alert.

‘Yeah,’ she breathes. She reaches down and undoes his fly, lets his pants drop around his shins. He’s not quite hard but he’s getting there quick, and she keeps his dick in her hand and strokes the head with her thumb while he hits her again, this time over the collarbone. Bela steps close against him, legs sliding tight around one of his thighs, and she’s so wet that she slips slick right up to his hips and holds herself there, hot and wet against him. Dean’s a little dizzy. Bela drop kicks him again, and they’re on the floor and she’s over him and _fuck_ she sinks down onto his dick, her thighs shiny with her own slick, her fingers dragging into his mouth.

She grinds down onto him once, presses her ankles hard over his shins so he can’t quite move, and she punches him full in the gut, not a fake punch but a real one, like she’s aiming for the floor beneath him. Dean yells and goes taut as a wire, nerves tangling, muscles tensed in a bloodrush of fight or flight. He rolls over hard and takes her with him and now, now his blood is up. He spreads her legs with a hand hard on each thigh and fucks her slow and merciless-deep, teeth bared, every stroke like a hot slick wound, and in between he hits her with the heel of his hand over her breast, _thud, thud, thud_. Bela’s core stays tense, wrapped tight around the pain, but her limbs go slack and her head falls back. She draws her knees up around him and comes, moaning and moaning for so long it almost unnerves him, arched up off the floor.

Dean pulls out finally and sits there on his knees with his cock in his hand, staring at her.

‘Gonna come on you,’ he says finally, thickly. He leans over to brace a forearm alongside her head and jerks himself off onto her tits. The come trickles down over the bruises-that-will-be, now just puffy red skin. 

Bela laughs and grabs Dean’s biceps to pull herself up, and kisses him once on the lips.


End file.
